Lyn Marie Cunliffe, who is the maker of Abigails Ateliers, creates beautifull gowns, like the one Charlotte Bronte was wearing. In this blog she is talking about this portrait of Charlotte, about Charlotte's dress and about Charlotte's hair.
This is a blog about the Bronte Sisters, Charlotte, Emily and Anne. And their father Patrick, their mother Maria and their brother Branwell. About their pets, their friends, the parsonage (their house), Haworth the town in which they lived, the moors they loved so much, the Victorian era in which they lived.
I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind.
Emily BronteWuthering Heights
zaterdag 18 juni 2011
The creation of Jane Eyre
The creation of Jane Eyre.
In the stillness of the rooms in Manchester, rarely going outside the house, Charlotte wrote incessantly for three weeks, haunted she said by Sin and Suffering. She told later Harriet Martineau that when she came to Thornfield and Mr. Rochester, she could not stop. Charlotte wrote on feverely, until she had carried her heroine away from Thornfield, and was herself in a fever which compelled her to pause.
Yet there were long stretches Charlotte could not write at all, and she had to wait for inspiration to strike. Those were low periods. As she later told Mrs Gaskell, it was not every day she could write. Sometimes weeks of even months elapsed before she had anything to add to that portion of her story which was allready written. Than, some morning, she wake up, and the progress of her story lay clear and bright before her, in distinct vision.
From the book: Charlotte Bronte a writer's life from Rebecca Fraser.
-------------------
Any one who has studied her writings,--whether in print or in her letters; any one who has enjoyed the rare privilege of listening to her talk, must have noticed her singular felicity in the choice of words. She herself, in writing her books, was solicitous on this point. One set of words was the truthful mirror of her thoughts; no others, however apparently identical in meaning, would do. She had that strong practical regard for the simple holy truth of expression, which Mr. Trench has enforced, as a duty too often neglected. She would wait patiently searching for the right term, until it presented itself to her. It might be provincial, it might be derived from the Latin; so that it accurately represented her idea, she did not mind whence it came; but this care makes her style present the finish of a piece of mosaic. Each component part, however small, has been
dropped into the right place. She never wrote down a sentence until she clearly understood what she wanted to say, had deliberately chosen the words, and arranged them in their right order. She was wakeful for hours in the night. Her finished manuscripts were copied from these pencil scraps, in clear, legible, delicate traced writing, almost as easy to read as print.
The sisters retained the old habit, which was begun in their aunt's life-time, of putting away their work at nine o'clock, and beginning their study, pacing up and down the sitting room. At this time, they talked over the stories they were engaged upon, and described their plots. Once or twice a week, each read to the
others what she had written, and heard what they had to say about it. Charlotte told me, that the remarks made had seldom any effect in inducing her to alter her work, so possessed was she with the feeling that she had described reality; but the readings were of great and stirring interest to all, taking them out of the gnawing pressure of daily-recurring cares, and setting them in a free place. It was on one of these occasions, that Charlotte determined to make her heroine plain, small, and unattractive, in defiance of the accepted canon.
The-Life-of-Charlotte-Bronte-Volume-2-At1
Jane Eyre
vrijdag 17 juni 2011
" Girls, do you know Charlotte has written a book, and it is much better than likely."
She told her father, from whom she had but few secrets, that she had not only written a book any Bronte could do that but printed one, which had attained the honour of a flattering review. So saying, she gave Mr. Bronte a copy of " Jane Eyre " and left him alone to his reading and reflections.
At tea time he observed, " Girls, do you know Charlotte has written a book, and it is much better than likely." But outside the family nobody was let into the secret. This policy, adopted in pursuance of mutual promises given by the sisters one to the other, was probably not a wise one. Charlotte Bronte, though a shy woman, was not by any means a shy author. Her courage was dauntless, and she had none of that diseased vanity which causes some writers to abstain from reading hostile criticisms and to live wrapped up in their own conceit of themselves, a garment objectionable indeed, but not on the score of scantiness.
www.archive.org
"I will show you a heroine as plain and as small as myself."
first edition of Jane EyreSmith, Elder & Co.
' Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you ? Do you think I am an automaton ? a machine without feelings ? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup ? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless ? You think wrong ! I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart ! And if God had gifted me with some beauty, and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you / now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, or even of mortal flesh : it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal, as we are ! '
In 1846 Charlotte Bronte began her most famous novel, Jane Eyre, in a terraced house in Hulme, south Manchester miles away from the Yorkshire moorland that we associate with her family. Charlotte's father the Reverend Patrick Bronte was undergoing cutting-edge eye surgery to rid him of cataracts that left him almost blind. Charlotte used this time well to start writing her book.
In 1846 Charlotte Bronte began her most famous novel, Jane Eyre, in a terraced house in Hulme, south Manchester miles away from the Yorkshire moorland that we associate with her family. Charlotte's father the Reverend Patrick Bronte was undergoing cutting-edge eye surgery to rid him of cataracts that left him almost blind. Charlotte used this time well to start writing her book.
On the 24th of August she wrote to Messrs. Smith and Elder as follows: "I now send you per rail a MS. entitled, 'Jane Eyre,' a novel in three volumes, by Currer Bell. I find I cannot prepay the carriage of the parcel, as money for that purpose is not received at the small stationhouse where it is left. If, when you acknowledge the receipt of the MS., you would have the goodness to mention the amount charged on delivery, I will immediately transmit it in postage stamps. It is better in future to address, * Mr. Currer Bell, under cover to Miss Bronte, Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire,' as there is a risk of letters otherwise directed not reaching me at present. To save trouble, I enclose an envelope."
On October 16, 1847, "Jane Eyre" was published in three volumes. An early copy was sent to Thackeray,
who at once read it, and heartily acknowledged its extraordinary merit.
She afterwards told Mrs. Gaskell that it was not every day she could write, and that sometimes months elapsed before she felt she had anything to add to that portion of her story which was already written.
'I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield : I love it because I have lived in it a full and delightful life, momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence\ with what I delight in, with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death.'
www.archive.org
study guide/Jane-Eyre-Character-List
donderdag 16 juni 2011
St James's Thornton benefits from grant.
Churches in the Bradford district have been saved from disrepair and eventual ruin – thanks to a total of £746,000 in Heritage Lottery Fund (HLF) grants.
St James’s Church, Thornton, will receive £166,000. The building features an early William Morris stained glass window and the Bronte sisters were christened in its font. The bulk of the money will be spent on replacing the roof.
Read more: the telegraph and argus
From: more pictures on Bancrofts from Yorkshire old-bell-chapel-thornton
Haworth Gas Company
16-06-1858: "A deputation from the Haworth Gas Company waited upon the Board, to obtain leave from that body, to open up the roads and streets the necessary trenches in order to lay down the iron mains, cross pipes or service pipes and other apparatus for their gas works. Agreed unanimously that the privilege now asked for be granted on these conditions, viz. That no trench on the highways or in streets be allowed to remain open an unreasonable time, that the road metal, setts, flags or whatever else is removed, shall be replaced in a proper manner, and everything restored to its former state, to the entire satisfaction of the local Board or their surveyor."
Extract from Haworth Local Board of Health Minute Book
Lighting in Victorian England
Extract from Haworth Local Board of Health Minute Book
Lighting in Victorian England
maandag 13 juni 2011
The funeral of Patrick Bronte.
In the church every pew and available space was taken and several hundred people were forced to remain
outside in the churchyard. In accordance with Patrick's wishes, Arthur had arranged everything with simplicity. Yhere was no passing bell and no psalms were singing. The coffin was carried from the parsonage to the church and then tot the family vault by six of Patrick's closest friends
Joseph Grant from Oxenhope
J.H.Mitchell from Cullingworth
H. Taylor from Newsholme
William Fawcett from Morton
John Smith from Oakworth
John Mayne from Keighley
Arthur followed the coffin,
accompanied
by Martha and Eliza Brown,
their mother and Nancy Garrs.
From: Juliet Barker, the Brontes.
zondag 12 juni 2011
12-06- 1861 Patrick Bronte was buried in the family vault at Haworth Church.
Arthur Bell Nicholls then went on to take care of his aged father-in-law until Patrick Brontë’s death six years later. A very close friendship sprang up between these formerly bitter rivals for Charlotte’s affection, and when Patrick Brontë died, his son-in-law was so devastated by the loss that he could barely manage to walk in the funeral procession, physically supported by a friend.
On 30 October 1859 Patrick Bronte preached his last sermon from the pulpit of Haworth Church. On the 7th June 1861 he died aged 84. On the 12th June he was laid to rest in the family vault at Haworth church. He had lived and preached in the parish of Haworth for 41 years, outliving all his children.
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)
The Parlour
Parsonage
Charlotte Bronte
Presently the door opened, and in came a superannuated mastiff, followed by an old gentleman very like Miss Bronte, who shook hands with us, and then went to call his daughter. A long interval, during which we coaxed the old dog, and looked at a picture of Miss Bronte, by Richmond, the solitary ornament of the room, looking strangely out of place on the bare walls, and at the books on the little shelves, most of them evidently the gift of the authors since Miss Bronte's celebrity. Presently she came in, and welcomed us very kindly, and took me upstairs to take off my bonnet, and herself brought me water and towels. The uncarpeted stone stairs and floors, the old drawers propped on wood, were all scrupulously clean and neat. When we went into the parlour again, we began talking very comfortably, when the door opened and Mr. Bronte looked in; seeing his daughter there, I suppose he thought it was all right, and he retreated to his study on the opposite side of the passage; presently emerging again to bring W---- a country newspaper. This was his last appearance till we went. Miss Bronte spoke with the greatest warmth of Miss Martineau, and of the good she had gained from her. Well! we talked about various things; the character of the people, - about her solitude, etc., till she left the room to help about dinner, I suppose, for she did not return for an age. The old dog had vanished; a fat curly-haired dog honoured us with his company for some time, but finally manifested a wish to get out, so we were left alone. At last she returned, followed by the maid and dinner, which made us all more comfortable; and we had some very pleasant conversation, in the midst of which time passed quicker than we supposed, for at last W---- found that it was half-past three, and we had fourteen or fifteen miles before us. So we hurried off, having obtained from her a promise to pay us a visit in the spring... ------------------- "She cannot see well, and does little beside knitting. The way she weakened her eyesight was this: When she was sixteen or seventeen, she wanted much to draw; and she copied nimini-pimini copper-plate engravings out of annuals, ('stippling,' don't the artists call it?) every little point put in, till at the end of six months she had produced an exquisitely faithful copy of the engraving. She wanted to learn to express her ideas by drawing. After she had tried to draw stories, and not succeeded, she took the better mode of writing; but in so small a hand, that it is almost impossible to decipher what she wrote at this time.
I asked her whether she had ever taken opium, as the description given of its effects in Villette was so exactly like what I had experienced, - vivid and exaggerated presence of objects, of which the outlines were indistinct, or lost in golden mist, etc. She replied, that she had never, to her knowledge, taken a grain of it in any shape, but that she had followed the process she always adopted when she had to describe anything which had not fallen within her own experience; she had thought intently on it for many and many a night before falling to sleep, - wondering what it was like, or how it would be, - till at length, sometimes after the progress of her story had been arrested at this one point for weeks, she wakened up in the morning with all clear before her, as if she had in reality gone through the experience, and then could describe it, word for word, as it had happened. I cannot account for this psychologically; I only am sure that it was so, because she said it. ----------------------She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held fast to them with more success. It was done, it seems to me, with much more difficulty than people have of stronger nerves, and better fortunes. All her life was but labour and pain; and she never threw down the burden for the sake of present pleasure. I don't know what use you can make of all I have said. I have written it with the strong desire to obtain appreciation for her. Yet, what does it matter? She herself appealed to the world's judgement for her use of some of the faculties she had, - not the best, - but still the only ones she could turn to strangers' benefit. They heartily, greedily enjoyed the fruits of her labours, and then found out she was much to be blamed for possessing such faculties. Why ask for a judgement on her from such a world?" elizabeth gaskell/charlotte bronte
I asked her whether she had ever taken opium, as the description given of its effects in Villette was so exactly like what I had experienced, - vivid and exaggerated presence of objects, of which the outlines were indistinct, or lost in golden mist, etc. She replied, that she had never, to her knowledge, taken a grain of it in any shape, but that she had followed the process she always adopted when she had to describe anything which had not fallen within her own experience; she had thought intently on it for many and many a night before falling to sleep, - wondering what it was like, or how it would be, - till at length, sometimes after the progress of her story had been arrested at this one point for weeks, she wakened up in the morning with all clear before her, as if she had in reality gone through the experience, and then could describe it, word for word, as it had happened. I cannot account for this psychologically; I only am sure that it was so, because she said it. ----------------------She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held fast to them with more success. It was done, it seems to me, with much more difficulty than people have of stronger nerves, and better fortunes. All her life was but labour and pain; and she never threw down the burden for the sake of present pleasure. I don't know what use you can make of all I have said. I have written it with the strong desire to obtain appreciation for her. Yet, what does it matter? She herself appealed to the world's judgement for her use of some of the faculties she had, - not the best, - but still the only ones she could turn to strangers' benefit. They heartily, greedily enjoyed the fruits of her labours, and then found out she was much to be blamed for possessing such faculties. Why ask for a judgement on her from such a world?" elizabeth gaskell/charlotte bronte
Poem: No coward soul is mine
No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the worlds storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heavens glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
O God within my breast.
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life -- that in me has rest,
As I -- Undying Life -- have power in Thee!
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move mens hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast Rock of immortality.
With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.
There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou -- Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
-- Emily Bronte
No trembler in the worlds storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heavens glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
O God within my breast.
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life -- that in me has rest,
As I -- Undying Life -- have power in Thee!
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move mens hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast Rock of immortality.
With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.
There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou -- Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
-- Emily Bronte
Family tree
The Bronte Family
Grandparents - paternal
Hugh Brunty was born 1755 and died circa 1808. He married Eleanor McClory, known as Alice in 1776.
Grandparents - maternal
Thomas Branwell (born 1746 died 5th April 1808) was married in 1768 to Anne Carne (baptised 27th April 1744 and died 19th December 1809).
Parents
Father was Patrick Bronte, the eldest of 10 children born to Hugh Brunty and Eleanor (Alice) McClory. He was born 17th March 1777 and died on 7th June 1861. Mother was Maria Branwell, who was born on 15th April 1783 and died on 15th September 1821.
Maria had a sister, Elizabeth who was known as Aunt Branwell. She was born in 1776 and died on 29th October 1842.
Patrick Bronte married Maria Branwell on 29th December 1812.
The Bronte Children
Patrick and Maria Bronte had six children.
The first child was Maria, who was born in 1814 and died on 6th June 1825.
The second daughter, Elizabeth was born on 8th February 1815 and died shortly after Maria on 15th June 1825. Charlotte was the third daughter, born on 21st April 1816.
Charlotte married Arthur Bell Nicholls (born 1818) on 29th June 1854. Charlotte died on 31st March 1855. Arthur lived until 2nd December 1906.
The first and only son born to Patrick and Maria was Patrick Branwell, who was born on 26th June 1817 and died on 24th September 1848.
Emily Jane, the fourth daughter was born on 30th July 1818 and died on 19th December 1848.
The sixth and last child was Anne, born on 17th January 1820 who died on 28th May 1849.
Grandparents - paternal
Hugh Brunty was born 1755 and died circa 1808. He married Eleanor McClory, known as Alice in 1776.
Grandparents - maternal
Thomas Branwell (born 1746 died 5th April 1808) was married in 1768 to Anne Carne (baptised 27th April 1744 and died 19th December 1809).
Parents
Father was Patrick Bronte, the eldest of 10 children born to Hugh Brunty and Eleanor (Alice) McClory. He was born 17th March 1777 and died on 7th June 1861. Mother was Maria Branwell, who was born on 15th April 1783 and died on 15th September 1821.
Maria had a sister, Elizabeth who was known as Aunt Branwell. She was born in 1776 and died on 29th October 1842.
Patrick Bronte married Maria Branwell on 29th December 1812.
The Bronte Children
Patrick and Maria Bronte had six children.
The first child was Maria, who was born in 1814 and died on 6th June 1825.
The second daughter, Elizabeth was born on 8th February 1815 and died shortly after Maria on 15th June 1825. Charlotte was the third daughter, born on 21st April 1816.
Charlotte married Arthur Bell Nicholls (born 1818) on 29th June 1854. Charlotte died on 31st March 1855. Arthur lived until 2nd December 1906.
The first and only son born to Patrick and Maria was Patrick Branwell, who was born on 26th June 1817 and died on 24th September 1848.
Emily Jane, the fourth daughter was born on 30th July 1818 and died on 19th December 1848.
The sixth and last child was Anne, born on 17th January 1820 who died on 28th May 1849.
Top Withens in the snow.
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2015
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2014
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2013
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06/12 - 06/19
(11)
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2010
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